


Bug

by OurLittleSecretOkay



Category: Repo! The Genetic Opera (2008)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-01 13:17:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16285289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OurLittleSecretOkay/pseuds/OurLittleSecretOkay
Summary: Needles and drugs and capitalism, oh my.Post-movie conjecture mostly built up from deleted scenes and interviews with The Roach Man





	1. Chapter 1

He had promised her her cure. If anyone could promise it, it was him. Her father had been promising it for years now, but it was always a hypothetical, a hope. This, this was tangible; the potential to touch the world itching at her fingertips. Less slow than she ought to be, she made her way down the tunnel, through the dark illuminated only by torchlight. She felt the wall beneath her hand give way, turning as it opened into a new room. She half expected Mr. Largo, a light, something, but in the dark, all she could hear was the hiss of labored breathing.

After years of bullshit, this was how it ended. The things he’d done, things he hadn’t had time to do… Mostly he was pissed that he’d lived right up to the climax only to find out he’d never see how it ended. He had been stupid to think that he was different, that he would be able to keep the repo men at bay. Evidently not. He should have known GeneCo wouldn’t take kindly to his stepping on their toes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be pissed about it. He heard the sound of steps in the dark, the dragging of fabric on stone. The steps were light, uncertain, echoing hollowly. Whoever it was, he certainly was going to lose any fight they picked while he was in this position. 

“Who's there? Stay back!”  
It wasn’t Rotti. For a moment she was surprised, uncertain what exactly was happening. Mr. Largo hadn’t told her about this. There were a lot of things people didn’t tell her. As far as she knew, this was all part of the plan. Trying to see as best she could in the straining dark, she leaned forward, trying not to get too close.  
“Do you have my cure?”  
“Kid? Is that you?”  
She recognized the voice. The hair. The stark paleness of the obscured face. Great, the loud man with the deathwish. Of course it was him.

Of course it was her. He had left things perfectly, left her impressed with his suave manner and utter finesse. Now all the show had been for nothing; he’d have to start all over again. Silently, he damned the Largos once more. But she had come for him, no? Perhaps his little show had worked after all.  
“I'm here to earn my cure.”  
“Your cure? Is that what this is about?!” Despite the imminence of his own death, he still found the time to be pissed. This was really not his day. Of course this was her fault. Fine, if he had to be her heroic savior once again, he would take it. Better than nothing. They’d get there. “Sorry, that fucking Amber cleaned me out. But maybe later-” softening his voice, he tried to look as casual as possible, hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions, “I'll hook you up later. Just help me down.”

“The drug?” Why the hell would she come all this way just to buy some recycled zydrate off of him? She was almost impressed with his single-mindedness.  
“Yeah, the drug.”  
“Yeah…” Still straining to see, she lifted the bug she had captured, hoping to shed some more light. She wondered how long he had been upside down, how he had ended up here at all. Moving a unsecured candelabra, she managed to make the darkness just a bit more penetrable. The light bounced off his bloodshot eyes.  
“Your cure, it's-”  
“The drug!” So Rotti had sent her here after all. Tying the man upside down seemed a bit much all the same.

“Help me down.” This girl was really taking her goddamn time with the matter. She still held the glowing bug like it was going to be of any use at all. If she didn’t cut him down soon… Moved by the thought of letting his legacy end in such a way, he quickly made his peace with the unerotic qualities of bargaining for his life. If there was one thing he knew, it was that people would do most anything in exchange for their drugs. “Help me… I'll score some.”  
“Shed some-”  
“Kid, I'm out.” Goddamn, she really was dense. Was she actually going to leave him like this just because he didn’t have anything left on him? Dumb kid would kill both of them.

He had to have something. It was too dark, she needed to see if she was going to get him down without cracking his thick skull. “Some-”  
“I told you.” She could hear the irritation in his voice as he interrupted her, the resigned tone of one used to dealing with addicts. Or, dealing to addicts, rather.  
“-Light on.”  
“That's the situ-” he paused, opening his pack, “The situation.”  
“The situation…” She took the empty needle he handed her, the glass illuminated ever so slightly by the iridescent light. She needed more light, and quick. There wasn’t time to waste. Glancing to the side, she noted the woman lying on the ground, definitively dead. Even in the faint glow, it was easy to tell she was no longer breathing.

“How about her?” She gestured towards the dead woman to his right.  
“Yeah?” Trying to keep this girl on task was an impossible job. Of course she had to be the one who showed up; it couldn’t have been a junkie already dedicated enough to care whether he was alive to continue providing their fix. If she didn’t focus quickly, there wouldn’t be time enough for either of them.  
“She's right beside you,” pointing out the obvious, she looked at the figure.  
“She's right beside me, so?”  
“No, I mean her zytrate.”  
“No, I'm out of zytrate.” There was no other way to explain this to her. Unless she got him down, he couldn’t get her more, and unless she wanted to be as dead as that woman-  
“It's like a night-light-”  
“Oh, it's like a night-light!” all at once he was flooded with gratitude that it had been this clever girl after all. She didn’t want it for herself; damn kid was trying to use the drug for the light, not the fix. She was trying to help him. “You're beautiful! It's easy.”  
“You don't mean...?” Even in the scant light he could see her hesitation.  
“Yeah.”  
“For me to..?”  
“So easy…”  
“I don't think-”  
“Don't think.” She had to do this. It was his, their, only chance.  
“-That I could-”  
“Just smack it!”  
“I guess that she-”  
“She won't.” Poor kid still had a conscience about these things. If he had the time, he’d laugh.  
“Won't feel it-”  
“You've got to smack it,” she couldn’t be unsure. It took strength, willpower to break through the tissue. She could do it. “Into her skull!”  
“Inside her skull.” He watched as she began to insert it with a surgical precision, ever the doctor's daughter. 

“A needle into a bug,” this was no different than organizing her insect collection, she told herself. She was already dead, she wouldn’t feel it. Just another insect.  
“A needle into a bug,” he repeated the words back to her. She could hear the desperation he tried to hide, the frantic fear that she wouldn’t be able to do it.  
“A needle into a bug,” Feeling the syringe settle, she began to pull back on the stopper, shocked when it actually began to work.  
“A needle into a bug!” He was visibly excited, delighted. For a moment she understood exactly how one could get hooked on this. But then the room was flooded with the topaz glow and in a damning instant, she recognized the face that had watched over her her entire life, as still and reproving as ever. In a flurry of panic, she dropped the needle, revolted as she became witness to the repetition of her crimes.  
Yes, the woman was dead. She had made sure of that years ago, hadn’t she?


	2. Chapter 2

Things weren't supposed to change like this, not so quickly. For the first time in her life, the bitch was making good on a promise, and it had the potential to really fuck him over. It wouldn't last, though; she'd be back. He gave it a week tops until she was looking for that street-grade shit. Amber didn't change, not like that.   
It was almost unnerving, how quiet it was. No, not quiet--everything shifted just to the left. The change left him tense, constantly ready to catapult himself out of the situation, should it come to that. That wasn't so different, though. It was almost a let-down, the stillness; no ending that spectacular should peeter out so easily. He knew better, though; it wasn't over, just… waiting. They were all waiting. He could live with waiting, boring as it was. For the umpteenth time that evening, he caught himself wondering what the kid was up to.   
He had been watching her, sure she was catalyst to whatever this great undoing would be. But no, she had closed the doors to her gate, disappeared into that house. And who could blame her, really? That was how she'd spent the first half, after all. So he waited. Watched. It wasn't just that getting in would be a problem; he didn't want to find himself in the heart of the Undoing. He planned to survive this as well. His skin positively itched to jump the fence, find out what the hell she was doing, but even that wasn’t entirely true. He also just wanted to see the look on her face when he did so. It wasn’t that he cared, it was that he cared too much. She’d be angry, sure, but more importantly, she’d be there. Lonely maybe. Ready for an indecent savior. Who could blame him for his fascination? For weeks, every tabloid had bragged “New, previously unseen photos of The Girl!” Everyone wanted a peek. But that wasn’t the problem either, necessarily. Or at least, it hadn’t been a problem until he found himself more willing then normal to be plied with sex. It was a harmless thing to do; everyone got what they wanted and no one got hurt. Still, he had to open his eyes eventually.

The first time it had happened, it had been a surprise. He had let his mind wander, as he was wont to do, having fallen easily into the rhythm. He listened to the junkie’s overplayed moans, felt her skin beneath his hands. He bent her over, pressed his open mouth to the back of her neck. As he held her hips, thrusting quickly, she had cried out in high pitched, outsized noises. Business as usually. And then, gritting his teeth, he had damned himself with a groan, “Ah fuck, Kid, I'm so close.”   
That might have been the first time he had felt embarrassed since… ever, really. Desperately, he had hoped she hadn’t heard. If she had, she didn't say anything, content to let sleeping dogs lie. Even dregs weren’t graceless. Or perhaps she just cared about the fix more. Regardless, it had been a rather preoccupying discovery. 

He looked up at her window, saw a light go on somewhere else in the house. Two stories up, three to the left… he could make it. Calculating the quickest path, he turned, walking away, leaving his thoughts to jump the fence, scale the lattice, knock on glass. Not tonight.


End file.
